


Is forever for you?

by b_kolacki



Series: A.M [3]
Category: nunya
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_kolacki/pseuds/b_kolacki
Summary: we love petty fights and irrational behavior from adults with children.





	Is forever for you?

Beyoncé knew that considering the role she played in their separation, she wasn't in the position to dictate when she and Jordan would make up but being the patient, repentant spouse had grown old. They'd slept together a few times, they'd discussed their feelings until they were blue in the face and even became slightly friendly. Beyoncé appreciated that. It was necessary but now it'd been months and nothing changed and it was starting to feel like getting back together was only something he pretended was possible to pacify her.

She remembered other women existed. She was paranoid now. She wondered if maybe he was seeing someone else. They didn't talk about that before but she assumed they'd both wait. That isn't what she thought now. Jordan was cleaning up his appearance; washing his hair, trimming the slight beard he’d grown, and dressing up for work in pressed clothes. It wasn't even like she was getting a first hand look at these things either, she wouldn't know if she didn't have to see him when he picked up JJ and on those days he was short. Not rude, polite even, but he didn't hover and she missed that. People who want to come home hover. 

She dropped by his office. He had a new receptionist and she was pretty. A worrying pretty. Her hair was almond colored and full, she had pouty, husband-stealing lips and a button nose. Her name was Kimmy, a second wife’s name. Beyoncé could picture them attached at the hip, holding champagne flutes recalling how they got together. She’d pinch his cheek and mention how ‘his first wife slipped up and let him get away’ and Jordan would blush and shake his head in a polite way because even though he’d moved on, Beyoncé was still the mother of his children. Well, guess what Kimmy? He was still her fish to catch. Or re-catch. The point was this: Fuck her and her naturally big titties.

“Is Jordan in?” Beyoncé asked, carefully as if she was simply a wife stopping in to say hello to her husband. Outside a few close people no one knew they’d split up.

She waited for the girl to speak. Her eyes were a rich brown and Beyoncé felt her jaw trembling with a combination of anger, fear and anticipation. 

“He’s all tied up right now but I can give him a message.”

Kimmy’s voice was sweet and warm. Not the way Beyoncé’s was, Kimmy’s had pep. She hummed before she spoke. She sounded smarter than Beyoncé had initially banked on. She sounded like she went to college and actually graduated. 

Beyoncé grimaced and turned it into a smile, feeling her neck strain due to the intense clenching of her teeth. “Could you?”

“Of course,” She had smile lines, she was someone who laughed a lot the way Beyoncé used to, “I just need a name.” 

Beyoncé’s bottom lip came between her lip and she craned her neck forward to better hear, “Huh?”

“I need a name.”

She was squinting now. “Beyoncé?” She sounded unsure herself.

Kimmy scribbled it down on a sticky note and that also pissed Beyoncé off because maybe she had a lot to say. “And a last name?”

This threw her. She never had to do that before,“. . .On second thought I’ll probably call him myself later. I wanted to surprise him.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll tell him you came by.”

“No! That’s fine. Don’t say anything. It’s a surprise.”

She looked a little confused but nodded anyway. “Okay, well have a good one.”

Beyoncé unhooked her claws from the desk and turned to walk away before thinking better of it.

“I suggest you get a bigger notepad because sometimes people want to leave long messages,” Before Kimmy could respond, Beyoncé held up a finger and waved it around to accent her point, “Because when you assume? You make an ass out of YOU and ME.” And with those as her parting words, Beyoncé could return home to her bed and wail into her pillow the way she often liked to do. Her wailing turned into quiet sobs that lulled her to sleep. 

She woke up late in the evening. Her mother had taken JJ for a few days and so there was nothing for her to wake up to. Nothing to live for, as she would put it. She was dramatic that way now. There was the muffled sound of music being played outside somewhere, she hoped it was a neighbor but she was too chicken to check. This house was big and she was by herself and she'd seen enough horror movies to know it's better not to investigate.

She went down to the kitchen and mid gulp of iced tea straight from the 2-liter she caught her reflection in the toaster; most likely it was because she’d slept on it but fullness had returned to her face and it made her miss when she was just that way naturally.The front section of her hair was still pulled up, she’d have a headache later if she didn’t take it down soon but she wasn’t going to rush to do it. It’d be a while before she looked this nice again. The phone rang and she couldn’t bring herself to not sound like she was depressed, or like she hadn’t been sleeping, or like she didn’t take a 2-liter to the head moments before when she picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Beyoncé did you come up to my job today?” Jordan didn’t sound angry, more like shocked and a little annoyed. He was talking over music.

Admittedly, she felt like a teenager who’d been caught sneaking out at first but then, the knot in her belly was replaced with a burning feeling. She was the one who was supposed to be mad at him. 

“So what if I did?”

“Why would you?”

“Why can’t I?” 

“Because you can’t.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“If you don’t want me showing up maybe you should just divorce me.”

“Why don’t you just divorce me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Because you want me to be the one to do it.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the receiver in a way that showed the accurate amount of offense she took to what he said. She put the phone back to her ear and pulled it away again. The bassline she was hearing over the phone fit what was coming from outside and that made her angrier. She slammed the phone back on the hook and yanked the front door open.

His stupid ass camaro, that he literally only ever used to smoke pot in, was pulled in front of the gate. He couldn’t just show up like he owned the place (that he very much did own and still payed the bills for).

She speedily made the power walk over, wincing at how cold the poured cement was to her barefeet, and struck the driver’s side window with her palm.

He rolled it down, unphased, smoke came tunnelling past Beyoncé’s face, “Don't smudge my glass.”

“What the fuck, Jordan?”

He shrugged. “You dropped in on me, I can drop in on you.”

“It was during the fucking day.”

“You didn't hear me buzz the gate?”

“I was sleeping and it's weird that you sat out here that long. I’m changing the code.” 

“First of all, you don’t know how. Second, it's been less than fifteen minutes.”

“So?”

“So, you didn't answer and I had to talk to you so I waited and called to see if you were okay.”

“You didn't call to see if anybody was okay. You called to ban me from your workplace.”

“How would you know?”

“You didn't ask!”

“If you can pick up the phone you must be pretty okay.” He looked self righteous and it annoyed Beyoncé that it was cute.

“Well, you made your point and you can see I'm in good health. Go home.” She crossed her arms and remembered she was wearing one of his shirts. She stuck to her guns externally. 

“Are you mad at me?”

YEAH. “Clearly.”

He pushed up the car door and she had to step back to miss it swinging.

“Come and tell me what for.”

Beyoncé considered leaving the past in the past and being the bigger person but realized as soon as he left, like he always did, she’d be left with her unresolved feelings. “I can tell you from here.”

He sighed and huffed a quiet ‘can’t blame a guy for tryin’ laugh. 

Yes, she could.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know what you did.”

“How would I unless you told me?”

“I’m mad because I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

“And?”

Because he was pushing her out! Because she felt lied too! Because who needs this much time to figure things out? Because he was getting his life together without her! Because he’d scared her earlier and even though he didn’t mean to, it pissed her off that she had to be alone in the house to deal with it! And all of those things she’d mentioned in some way before but she couldn’t force him to forgive her and move back in and it was embarrassing now. She didn’t want to do it anymore or at least she was too drained to do it at the moment.

He relit the end of his joint and the warm lighting did him well. He was gaining weight, he hadn’t cut his hair yet and it hung in his eyes. She missed him but she didn’t have the energy to throw a tantrum about it. 

She grabbed him by his sweatshirt and pulled his lips to hers and he got a handle on her waist, steering her into his lap. 

“Wait.” She tugged down her underwear and her pajama shorts and while she straddled him she saw they both curled into that ugly, undignified, panty ball.

Jordan followed her line of sight, puffing in and exhaling wisps of smoke. “Leave it.”

“I wasn’t gonna fix it.”

“You looked like it.”

“You look like it.”

The song changed to Dazed And Confused, he reached around her and put it on repeat before pushing his seat back to make room.

She pulled the door closed and lifted up so he could push down his jeans. She wasn’t wet enough yet and he was only becoming stiff but those things didn’t stop them from rubbing against each other. Breath catching in their throats at the almost uncomfortable way it felt to have nerve endings touch. 

He lifted her shirt over her head and kissed down her sternum. Her fingers ran through his hair. She worried slightly about the fire hazard he was disregarding at the moment.

“How come I always have to be the naked one?”

“You’re not the naked one.”

“I am. Every time. You keep your clothes on and strip me down.”

He took off his sweatshirt and pulled it over her eyes.

“Better?”

She attempted frowning to conceal the laughter that was coming. “No.”

He held up the joint to her and hummed his invite.

She tugged at his sweatshirt and pushed her arms through,“That’s shitty. Who rolled that?”

“I did.”

“It’s sad.”

“I’m out of practice you spoiled me.”

She thought, “If you came home, I could do it all the time.” But that wasn’t something she’d say tonight. She wanted to enjoy it. He pushed into her and they settled into a comfortable rhythm. One she didn’t have to think about. She could rest her head on his shoulder and watch him, smoking and mouthing the words in between kissing her. She wished everything was that natural and easy. She kissed his fingers and ran his thumb along the edges of his teeth sucking on it. He trailed it down her jaw until his hand was at the back of her neck and he sat up to kiss at the front. Sweat rolled off of them but it could only serve to heighten the feeling they rode all the way until they were spent.

Beyoncé realized she was picking fights with him because she missed him. It would be sweet if he was doing the same.

“You wanna go back to my place?”

She’d been over a couple of times and it wasn’t much to write home about considering the last few places he lived. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “A while.”

“A while could be any amount of time. I might have something to do.”

They both knew that was a lie. 

“A few days.”

Inside she was doing cartwheels. “I guess so. I have to pack first.”

She reached for the door handle and he stopped her, “You have clothes there.”

“How?”

“I took some with me.”

“Do you mean that or are you trying to keep me from ruining your little hotboxing setup?”

“You have a drawer of things at my place and it’s only twenty percent of the second thing.”

She thought about it. “That’s good enough for me.”


End file.
